


Gear Check

by LawfulHungry



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Butt Plugs, Draenei, Fights, Forced Masturbation, Other, Public Humiliation, Public Masturbation, Sex Toys, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28777809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawfulHungry/pseuds/LawfulHungry
Summary: A trio of adventurers stumble upon magic items too powerful to sell, even if those items happen to be sex toys. But the items seem to have a mind of their own, and their secondary functions trigger at the most inopportune times.Commission for Jimmy Twotries
Kudos: 8





	Gear Check

"Based on my magical analysis, I have come to two conclusions. First: these are enchanted items far beyond any we have previously seen in our time together, capable of elevating us almost single-handedly to a level far beyond any competing groups within our pay grade. Second: the Horde is into some kinky shit."

Elicia laughed in a way that sounded very much like a snort, but Gerrell was too much of a gentlemen to point it out, and also he didn’t want to get smacked upside the head. "So can we touch them now?"

He winced. "Do you really want to?"

"Gotta touch them some time if we’re gonna use them."

"Of course, because when I see sex toys lying around, the first thing I do is try to put them in me."

"Really? Ew. That’s—oh, it was sarcasm. You’re making fun of me. Gotcha. Hey, does this rock look magical too? Get a real close look."

"Calm yourselves." Vuuli only brushed Elicia’s arm, and it immediately dropped the stone she had picked up. "I can wash these in a moment."

"Please do," he waved his hand and let Vuuli’s totems get to work, picking up the items and swirling them around a ball of suspended water. It was a neat trick, one he probably would use all the time if he had a shaman’s mastery over natural magic. Alas, his mage college had instilled in him the rote formulae of pure arcane force—excellent for combat and adventuring, awful for keeping his room clean. He wondered if all draenei magic had such mundane uses. Or, come to think of it, if draenei even had magical colleges like his. He’d have to look into it. He waited patiently (and Elicia waited much less patiently) for the spell to end, leaving three objects glistening with droplets of water: two rings, one much large than the other, and a solid hunk of glass roughly the shape of a tiny vase. "So, do we sell them?"

Elicia poked at the large ring with the tip of her sword. "Depends. What do they do, exactly?"

"Adjust the flow of energy within the wearer’s body. They make you more balanced, mentally and physically, and let you tap into your hidden reserves. So, for example, if I used one, I could muster more power behind each of my spells and deal more damage or affect a wider area. Your body would react more quickly, so you could block more attacks with your shield and retaliate faster. And I’m guessing Vuuli could tap into the world better, maybe recharging her magic more quickly."

"Hot." Elicia nudged Vuuli somewhere near her hip bones. "Maybe you can actually cast some heals now and again, instead of being all ‘oh, my mana is lacking’ or ‘know your limits, Elicia’."

"I have kept you alive thus far," Vuuli warned with the tone of a mother dealing with an unruly child. "But it does sound useful."

"Great, we’re all agreed. Let’s divvy them up. I want the bracelet."

Gerrell coughed. "Not a bracelet."

"What? Isn’t it a handcuff?"

"No, it’s a cock ring."

"Oh. Oh! Oooooh." Elicia pulled her thumb and forefinger apart until they had roughly the same distance between them as the ring’s diameter, then grinned wickedly. "Oh."

Vuuli picked it up. "So it goes on—ahem. Yes. Well, then I think this will probably go to me. Around my…you know." She shot an apologetic look at Gerrell. "You understand." He did. He knew exactly what Vuuli was packing; after enough time adventuring together, it was hard to not notice what she had swinging between her legs, especially given how flustered she got whenever it rose to attention. And he also knew very well that his endowment (even if it was just a tad larger than average for a human, as he had to keep reminding himself) could not measure up to Vuuli’s literal horse cock. The ring was very obviously sized for a tauren, or one of the other thicker races, and she was the only one on their team who could make use of it.

Elicia picked up the tiny ring, too small for her pinky. "Then I’m guessing I know where this little guy goes, and unless you have something you haven’t shown us, you don’t really have a place for it."

Gerrell sighed. Not because of the ring—it was, by any guess, intended to go around a clitoris, and he was in no position to argue her point. More so, he was worried about the last item, undoubtedly a butt plug. He considered ignoring it entirely to save himself the inevitable discomfort, but the lure of its power was too great. He dropped the plug in his pack without a moment’s fanfare. "Fine."

"Aw, not gonna put it in right now?"

"Are you?"

"…that’s fair."

"Besides, these items need attunement. Once you put them on—or in—they have to acclimate to your body’s energy flow. They’ll probably start working several hours afterward. A day at most. There won’t be any problem waiting to equip them until we don’t have anybody witnessing it."

"Fine with me." Vuuli rose from her crouch, looming over her human companions. "Shall we return to town with our spoils?"

"Woo! Mission rewards!" Elicia scooped up her pack and headed toward the edge of the Horde outpost. Gerrell followed, already thinking about the sort of jobs they could take if these items gave them the power he thought they would. If he was right, in less than a month there would be guilds beating down their door looking to recruit them, and that was more than worth hiding some magic equipment in their pants.

* * *

"Six!" Elicia proclaimed triumphantly, looming over another competitor who had hit the dirt. "Anybody want to be number seven?"

The other warriors shifted their feet, some out of minor embarrassment and some because leaning the wrong way on their legs exacerbated the bruises Elicia had given them. Her latest conquest rose and groaned, limping to the side of the Command Center. Despite using blunted training swords, she had left a spate of minor injuries in her wake, and she’d barely been nicked. Even the trainers were trying their best to look busy lest she pull them into a spar and add their names to her streak. She was a whirlwind of violence, too quick to hit and too strong to block, on par with the greatest warriors Stormwind had ever seen, and they all knew it.

She didn’t feel bad about her little advantage, not for a second. Would the Horde feel bad attacking her with weird magic? Would the Scourge feel bad about mobbing her twenty-on-one? No! Granted, she did kind of encourage the Horde by calling them names whenever the opportunity arose, and she did tend to draw the attention of as many enemies as possible before starting to put them down, but that was because she was efficient, and it was her party’s job to keep up, not her job to slow down. But whatever! The point was that unfair tricks were perfectly fair. Some people used magic tricks, or tactical, or numerical, and her trick was a tiny little magic artifact nestled around her clitoris.

Elicia barely felt it now. Or, she did, but she didn’t notice it as much as when she’d slipped it on the day before. Almost immediately she’d felt a tingle of power, and a day later it was like lightning coursed through her veins (the good kind of lightning, like a battle high, not like actual lightning, because that probably still hurt). When she focused on it, she could still feels its unnatural warmth against her skin, letting her finally use the power she’d always known she’d had.

The small crowd didn’t notice her shifting her thighs, almost daring them to guess what had caused the sudden growth in her combat prowess. They were too busy looking at her new contender with some unnamed emotion between excitement and pity. Dread? Elicia didn’t know words. She knew fighting, and just from seeing this "warrior" step into the sparring grounds she could tell he wouldn’t be much of a challenge. Mismatched gear, like he’d thrown it together throughout several adventures. An awkward grip on his axe, like he wasn’t quite sure how to handle a new weapon out of his comfort zone. Glances at the spectators, like he was more concerned about how bad he would look as he lost instead of how he might win. Elicia scoffed. This was some trainee, barely a warm-up even before her enhancement. She brandished her sword, pushing him back with her mere presence. "You sure about this?"

The trainee gulped and nodded. "Yeah." He was not. She could tell. But she wasn’t going to go easy on him. Nobody learned from being coddled. She would give him exactly the lesson he needed: how to know when he was deeply, deeply outmatched.

The ring hummed silently, and another rush of power pulsed through her bones. She stood taller, smiled wider, saw more clearly. After all those hours, it had happened. She was in tune with herself…or the ring was. Tuned? Attuned? Whatever. Her power was at its peak, her energies were flowing or something, and she was ready to take on the world. An delicate buzzing filled her whole body, an excitement she couldn’t wait to vent on her sparring partner.

Somebody shouted to start the match. At almost that exact moment, the ring began, silently but emphatically, to vibrate.

* * *

Power was many things. Knowledge. Influence. The ability to clap one’s hands and conjure a thermodynamic instability so intense it solidified the moisture in the air and froze a half-dozen orcs to the ground, helpless to avoid an array of icicles as sharp as spears. Gerrell had these things, in varying amounts, but today his power manifested as confidence.

He sauntered—a word he rarely used to describe his own movement, but at the moment it felt particularly apt—into the tavern, one of the many haunts he visited throughout the city. The man behind the bar nodded at him and he nodded back with a friendly smile. By the time he reached his stool a glass of half-decent ale was already waiting for him, and he took a long sip before he formally greeted his host. "Good afternoon."

The bartender eyed him over a bristly mustache. "You seem chipper."

"I am chipper. Because today is a good day, and I intend to make good things happen."

"Never hurts to be optimistic."

Gerrell chuckled. "Wait and see, friend." True, he did always come into this tavern, and several others, with a confidence level somewhere between "I belong here" and "gaze upon me, ye lessers, and despair". It was a necessary counterbalance to his, admittedly, less-than-impressive physical gifts. Women in bars tended not to look at him and think "oh, yes, what an impressive specimen of masculine energy; I hope he approaches me so I can reciprocate and ride him like a griffin" or whatever women thought when they saw an attractive man across the room. The impression he left was usually more along the lines of "aren’t you a little pretty for an adventurer?" or "ooo, sorry, I’m looking for something a little more, um, manly?" or, in one memorable case, "small man break like twig". Picking up women in bars was an easier job for men with chiseled jaws and battle scars than a sharp wit and a wealth of information about magical constructs, at least according to his experience. He’d never had a drink thrown in his face, but he’d met enough cold shoulders to give him a second degree in cryomagy.

That changed today, because he had changed today. Raw power churned inside his body, begging to be let out. He felt it welling up from within, somewhere deep, somewhere unknowable, somewhere—

Okay, yes, it was his ass. The magical butt plug was doing its job far better than even he had assumed. Once he got over the embarrassment of touching it, then the embarrassment of thinking about wearing it, then the physical act of inserting it, it actually wasn’t so bad. Sure, moving still felt weird; he never forgot it was there, and he kept tensing to…test himself, he guessed? It definitely wasn’t that he enjoyed having things up his ass. Or maybe he did! This was all a journey of discovery. What mattered was the aura regulation the tool performed, moving his magic better, making him stronger both mentally and physically. He had already proven it to himself with just a few minutes of combat testing, and he was more than ready to take on another job with his new might.

But while there was no imminent work, he could leverage his newfound power on his favorite recreational activity: seduction. He already felt himself moving more easily, thinking more quickly, noting things he hadn’t seen before. And with his brimming confidence—dare he say, his swagger—he had no doubt he could find a friendly young woman interested in taking his body for a test run.

His butt tensed again, and he resisted the urge to shift in his seat. Every once in a while it felt like something moved inside him, the result of his body trying to deal with its intruder. Any given shift or muscle twitch triggered some new, borderline sexual sensation. It wasn’t like the plug was actually animate, any more than his staff flew over to orcs and whapped them on the head. It was a tool, just like any other, and today he knew how to use it.

He locked eyes with a gorgeous young woman alone at a table. She seemed exactly his type: blonde, short (he wouldn’t call himself tiny, but when a man’s allies are a draenei and a warrior-type, it was no surprised that he found comfort in a slightly smaller woman), dressed in modern fashions, stacked like hotcakes, and, more importantly, looking back at him with something other than boredom or disgust. He half-grinned at her and she smiled back, as sure an invitation as any. He lifted his drink and carried it across the room, lowering it to just above her table. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"If you’d like," she said, and he sat in the chair just as he felt the plug expand.

* * *

The stockade had never been Vuuli’s favorite place. Too close to the city, too protected from the elements, too far from the sky and clouds and endless horizon. It was cramped and dank, exactly as miserable as she might expect from a human prison. Perhaps the prisoners felt the same way, and this led to their frequent revolts. Certainly if she had to spend more than a few hours in such a place, even she would find herself a way out.

But alas, this was where Stormwind needed assistance from adventurers. Not from her specifically—her skills were better leveraged in more dangerous locations like the Plaguelands—but from novice fighters working to make a name for themselves within the city. And some of those novice fighters liked having a little guidance from a woman who had been in and out of the Stockade a few times in her career. And if those fighters happened to be members of the Allies of Mystery, one of the most influential guilds within the kingdom of Stormwind, and they mentioned her expertise whenever the guild was looking for new members…it just so happened their interests aligned, and loathe as she was to spend another few hours traipsing through a hovel so dingy its very presence almost qualified as torture, she would do it a dozen times if it meant she and her companions finally got a foot in the door.

And what a foot it would be! She had known the power of magical gear since she had learned to summon her first totem, but her new ring was something else entirely. Magic flowed through her with barely a thought, putting up shields of earth and directing soothing water as quickly as she could gesture. Her spells no longer taxed her reserves to the limits, not when each had nearly the power of two spells cast just a few days before, and those limits seemed so far away they barely crossed her mind. With her effortless healing combined with her experience in battlefield management and her nurturing demeanor, she was certain her performance would reach the ears of the guild in no time.

Her concentration only faltered once in the entire central hallway, the part of the prison they called the "human wing" (as though the aesthetic sense of humans wasn’t rampant in every inch of every room). At first she thought it was an accidental bump, maybe a torch she hadn’t noticed before it swiped across her hips. But it seemed too slow, too even, too deliberate to be a random bit of the scenery, and she felt it again a moment later, when she was too far from a wall to bump into anything. It stroked up her thigh, but not exactly her thigh, more to the center, and—

Oh, her penis. It was stroking her penis. That was it.

She panicked, but demurely.

Her party did not notice her lose her spell, which she supposed was a ringing endorsement. She was keeping them in such good shape that a short lapse had no effect on the fight. She buckled down and focused, ignoring the strange sensation for exactly a quarter-second until it started again. Her eyes kept jumping down, looking for the object against which she had accidentally, repeatedly, collided. Yet it didn’t feel like it did when she bumped into a wall. It was closer to how she felt when she washed herself, when her penis twitched and started to rise, filling her head with strange sensations. She batted in front of her, looking for something invisible, and began to fear the possibility that something had crept inside her robes. Clenching her thighs did nothing, and jumping from side to side jostled nothing loose. It kept going, sliding, pumping, massaging her until she had no choice but to respond. Her penis started to rise, and when her party was distracted with some mortal danger or other, she adjusted herself beneath her clothes.

Then she felt it, a lump moving around inside her intimate attire. Hard, as thick as a finger, encompassing her fully, it finally presented itself in a way she understood. It was the penis ring, the accessory she had been using to fuel her magic. It slid up and down her penis, arousing her without her consent. With one hand she continued working on her allies, and with the other she tried to set herself right so her growing erection didn’t lift her robe straight up. Even thinking about her unmentionables felt wrong, much less doing it in the throes of battle, and she tried to will the ring to stop with insistent intent. It did not. It only stroked her more, rubbing her like a hand might if she was the sort of indecent person who pleasured themselves, or if she hired some harlot to service her, or if she heard her allies trading stories of illicit encounters, or if a gorgeous draenei woman climbed into her lap and—

She gasped when it tightened ever so slightly around her base, sending a new jolt of pleasure through her. It didn’t respond when she tried to make it stop, no, but the instant she became even the tiniest bit aroused, it seemed to recognize and foster the distraction. She pushed impure fantasies aside and gave her all to the fight, returning her allies to full health with a flurry of spells. If she ignored the ring massaging her, she would settle down, and it would stop, and she definitely wouldn’t have her first sexual experience in the middle of a dungeon surrounded by enemies she needed to fend off and strangers she needed to impress.

Her penis did not shrink, and the ring did not stop.

This presented a problem.

* * *

"Hiyah!" Elicia screamed as she swung, exerting far more energy than necessary. Or, more than was necessary for the wild, telegraphed swing that would have lopped off her sparring partner’s head if it had landed anywhere within a meter of him. In terms of venting some of the tension from her body, it was absolutely the correct amount. She swung again, sideways this time, creating a space around herself in which her opponent dare not venture. He visibly panicked and backed away, his axe at the ready in case she charged, but she remained still. She wanted to rush after him, keep on the pressure, and back him into making a deadly mistake. If only her trembling legs would listen.

In the last minute, the ring’s vibration had grown from a tingle to an outright thrum. She’d thought it was just more power manifesting in a strange way, then a weird quirk of the magic, then a minor annoyance. Nestled as it was around the most sensitive part of her body, the ring rapidly proved to be anything but minor. It was a distraction greater than the crowd and far greater than the trainee’s clumsy attacks. She couldn’t even move without the ring making itself known. Every step she took shifted it slightly, letting it continually find new and exciting ways to annoy her.

And that was the key word—exciting. Elicia was not the sort of person who got turned on by battle. Other warriors, sure, and some rogues, and that one warlock who got way too into commanding his succubus. But she had always seen combat as a purely platonic thrill. The rush of victory was wholly separate from the rush of sex (though she had combined the two with a few athletic men who thought they would be on top in bed and left with a very different impression of themselves). She didn’t want to mix business with pleasure, to deal with that distraction. If the ring could finish what it was doing and leave her be, she would appreciate it very much.

It did not. It only buzzed more…she didn’t know how to describe it. Tightly? Like it had a death grip on her, but not tight enough to hurt. Its every motion traveled directly through her nerves, sending waves of pleasure all the way to her fingertips. Ignoring it didn’t work. When she tried to block it out, it only came harder, filling her mind with blank thoughts where ecstasy could dance unimpeded. The longer she fought it, the more she wanted to give up on the actual fight, go back to her room, and let the ring do whatever it wanted for hours until she was a deflated heap of sweat and satisfaction. As a masturbatory tool, it was amazing. Perfect, even—she wondered if the gnomes in the Dwarven district could make marital aids that worked the same way. But as combat gear, she was starting to find it very frustrating.

She wished she could hide it better. Surely nobody watching knew what was going on under her armor. But they saw the results, and the only way she could disguise them was by pretending they were the results of her opponent’s skill. Her panting wasn’t because her heart pounded like she was in the middle of banging a headboard through a wall, it was because this wimpy trainee was tiring her out. She didn’t rub her thighs together to relieve some of the tension, she did it because she was constantly on the move, looking for a way past his lackluster defenses. She didn’t gasp now and again in a lusty moan, she screamed to throw him off his game and lead him into making a mistake. The only thing she couldn’t explain away was her offense. As the fight dragged on, her back arched more after each swing and her shoulders rolled more when she was idly sauntering about. Her muscle memory had her in full-blown seduction mode, the appropriate response for such mind-bending pleasure, and she just had to put up with it.

"Yes!" she almost clapped a hand over her mouth in shame. "Uh…yes, good dodge!" The trainee stared at her in fear and confusion, trying to decide whether to accept the compliment or ogle the body she seemed to be trying to show off. Elicia gritted her teeth. If she was distracting even him, the crowd had to be leering at her like crazy. She had to end the spar now, one way or the other, and retreat while her dignity was still intact.

So she did what she always did when she was in over her head: she fought. She swallowed and bit her tongue and clenched her toes and thought about the most disgusting things she had ever encountered. Sewage slimes. Mutilated walking corpses. Gnolls, just, in general. Anything to stave off the pleasure burning at the base of her brain for another few minutes. All she needed was one decisive blow, and it could all be over. Just hold out, hold out, hold out…

* * *

Gerrell nodded as the women spoke, pretending to be interested in her story about her harrowing visit to Lakeshire to see her family. It was, honestly, quite the story, full of dangers and troubles and one talkative gnome, but he was slightly distracted by the tongue in his ass.

Maybe it wasn’t a tongue, but it sure felt like one (or, like he imagined one would feel). It prodded at him from the inside, exploring a place he had never thought of as explorable. It squished, it stretched, it burrowed, it pressed against his bowels with insatiable curiosity. It was a living thing, one that either loved its enclosure or strongly resented it, and it made certain he couldn’t forget about it for even a second.

This presented a problem for two complimentary reasons. First, the sensations were not awful. For somebody who had not spent a great deal of time considering the merits of anal stimulation—not receiving it, anyway—he found it as surprisingly pleasant as it was strange and unsettling. The plug knew its way around his body, probably because it had spent so much time regulating his inner energies, and it knew how to stroke him better than he knew himself. Every so often it tickled one place in particular, near the front, and each time he clenched around the plug, bracing for a new round of pleasure. The pressure grew too great to contain, and it streamed into the rest of his body, especially the half-erect dick now stretching his trousers under the table. Left to its own devices, he had no doubt the plug would bring him to orgasm, or perhaps leave him right at the edge until he took care of matters himself. He only saw two reasonable options: he could remove the plug, which would prove physically difficult, reset the attunement time he needed to gain the benefits of its power, and leave him with an aching hard-on; or he could let it have its way with him and retire to blissful comfort.

Which led nicely into the second problem, in that he was still at a very public table in a very public bar, talking with an attractive young lady who kept giving him the sort of looks he’d always hoped for. On any other day he could call it quits and spend the afternoon in bed. But this time, of all times, he had actually managed to find somebody willing to give him the time of day. She batted her eyes, ran her fingers over her glass, even bit her lip—her lip!—and he was not about to miss out on her just because of his new adventuring gear. Worse, what if the true reason for her attention was the plug itself, either due to a magical effect or the confidence it gave him? Excusing himself for a moment to remove the plug in private would not only ruin the flow of a conversation he could scarcely risk leaving, it might ruin his chances at all. Logically, he could only endure his torture and wait it out, hoping he got contact information, or, dare he hope, an invitation so he could take things to the next step as soon as possible.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked. "Do you have to go someplace?"

"Hm?" Gerrell blinked at her, processing the question. "Ah. No, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be."

"You just seem fidgety."

It wasn’t his fault. The plug took full advantage of its position, wiggling through his backside with a frenetic intimacy. Twitching was the smallest reaction he could have, and he limited himself to it only through great effort. Even as he considered his answer, the plug licked at his prostate again, drawing a sharp intake of breath. "Do I? I’m sorry." His magic-enhanced mind scrambled for something to say, a convincing lie, and when it found none he resorted to naked flattery. "I just keep looking at your eyes, and I have to remind myself that there’s still a world around them."

The woman burst out laughing, a melodic soprano. "You’re ridiculous," she said, but without a hint of actual ridicule. "How often do lines like that actually work?"

"Hopefully just this once." He didn’t even think before he said it. She looked away, an attempt to hide the beginnings of a blush. He seized his chance, shifting in his seat and leaning his hips to one side, where he could hopefully keep the plug’s probing down to a dull roar. Not only did he fail to deter it, it attacked him with even more vigor, lashing against his erogenous zones as though to punish him for his attempt at escape. "Hah!" he squeaked, a distinctly unmanly sound he tried to segue into a drawn-out sigh. "Haaahhhh, was that too forward?"

"Not too." She looked back at him with those eyes, and the plug licked him inside out, and he wasn’t sure which one made his cock jump. "But I guess you mercenary types are used to making things happen."

"Whenever we can." He smiled and gritted his teeth.

"I bet you have dozens of exciting stories."

He bit his tongue. He knew what to do: tell her about something dangerous, but not too dangerous, a quick story so he could seem impressive without being braggadocios. Another high-pitched sound caught in his throat and he swallowed it down, mentally begging the plug to calm down so he could speak without interruption. It ignored his request. "Well, there was that time we were in Aaaaaaah…shenvale…"

* * *

Vuuli was not perfect. No matter how much she tried to be the picture of discipline, refraining from any sort of sexual activity to keep her mind clean and her body pure to better channel the elements (and perhaps one day to give herself over to a kind and gracious woman who accepted her quirks and appreciated her physical innocence, though at the moment the magical consideration was paramount) she could not completely ignore her thoughts. It was the mortal condition. Sex feels good, so bodies have sex. Simple biology. She wasn’t ashamed of the few times she had clumsily touched herself, exploring her body to get a literal and metaphorical handle on her desires, or when she had briefly become aroused in the presence of her trusted confidants. As long as she kept her focus, she always found it easy to stop at a moment’s notice, jumps a few pumps here or there, in bed or in the bath or whatnot, and she was ready to continue, satisfied with her lack of satisfaction.

The ring offered a counterargument: perhaps it had always been easy for her to stop touching herself at will because she was incredibly awful at it.

The ring was not awful.

It pumped her dick with a force, a pattern, a pace she had never considered. This was not the perfunctory manipulation of a rushed partner (she assumed; it wasn’t as through she’d had a partner for the sake of comparison) nor the idle strokes of a hand halfway between curious and bored (and to this she could certainly attest). This was, she imagined, how actual sex felt. It gripped her equine shaft snugly, massaging without choking. It traveled from top to bottom, teasing from her flared head to the base just above her increasingly tight testicles. She could swear it even rotated, attacking her from every direction. All this technique, all this activity, and still she was barely hard, crammed into undergarments unprepared for handling such a girthy object in such close quarters. If she could only be in her room, or at an inn, or even on a forest path, somewhere she could get a little privacy instead of being in the middle of—

Ah, right, the prison. The one where she was leading a group of new adventurers through mortal danger. That one.

Vuuli skimmed the room, refreshing her awareness of the ongoing battles. The druid seemed injured, with black patches all along his fur, far more than she would have allowed if she had been able to keep her focus on the battle. A quick bit of soothing rain set him right again, or at least right enough for him to survive the fire elemental trying to singe him. And another burst of energy brought the wolf back from his last legs, much to the delight of the hunter who had grown increasingly frantic over the last several moments. Just like that, all was right again. It hadn’t mattered that she’d zoned out for the briefest instant, letting her body accept the strange, wonderful ministrations of her new magic artifact.

With her allies back in the fight, she risked a glance down. To her horror, she saw a small lump forming below her stomach. Even bundled into an uncomfortable curve, her penis had grown larger than her clothing could disguise. Her endowment was not a problem in and of itself, not in any enlightened society in which a person could have both breasts and a penis without being burned at the stake, but to make her anatomy so obvious when she should be focusing on her allies? It was irreverent, uncouth! She backed away slowly, tossing out a heal here and there to act like she was still participating in the fight. When she finally made it behind a crate, she reached one hand inside her robe to rearrange her self in her clothes.

This was a mistake. Touching herself in public—or, the relative public of a prison in the middle of a riot—was bad enough, and the sheer impropriety of her action turned her face deep blue and filled her chest and loins with a tension that definitely wasn’t arousal or curiosity and absolutely did not indicate any sort of simmering, long-suppressed desires. But aside from things she certainly wouldn’t be thinking about in bed that night, the moment she grazed her penis, the heat of a real, live hand almost proved too much for her. She gave herself a quick tug, just enough to realize it was leading her in exactly the wrong direction, and as soon as she wasn’t pressing painfully against her underwear she whipped her arm back into view with the speed of a child caught in the cookie jar. The good news: she no longer had an obvious lump at her crotch. The bad news: since it was no longer being held back by magical silk her penis could extend to its full size, and the ring traveled along it even faster and harder than before, and now she had an even more obvious lump in the shape of a long, thick bulge stretching from her thighs to her belly button and creeping ever higher.

The bear roared and relaxed, a sign of a lull between battles. Vuuli forced a smile and channeled another spell. "Wonderful job. We are almost to the end, I believe." It was a lie to herself as much as to them. She knew the worst of the prison still lay ahead, and nothing she did seemed to tame the monster her ring had created. She kept her back to her party, hiding her situation from them while pretending to look for enemies. As long as they didn’t notice anything amiss, she could get them all out alive and handle her situation back in her room, where nobody would ever have to know about it.

* * *

It was too much. Elicia had never thought those words before, not in that order. But she was only human, and even she had her limits.

The vibration was too strong, too consistently, on a place too sensitive…it was too good, simply. Too good for her to ignore or fight through. It attacked her clit relentlessly, pulsing in a perfect rhythm, like it knew what her body needed. She’d been on the verge of orgasm for longer than she could guess. She felt it roaring under her stomach, so loud it almost scared her, and the longer she stalled it the louder it got. But the fight dragged on. The trainee kept dodging her random attacks, refused to capitalize on her broken defenses, and prolonged her public suffering by complete accident. Elicia was only seconds away from giving up, from ripping off her clothes and letting herself cum right there on the sparring grounds. Anything to make it end, to give her a mind-shattering release and let her get on with her day. Only her pride as a warrior kept her going, forcing her to end the fight with a win instead of fleeing behind a building and masturbating herself stupid in broad daylight.

The trainee backed away again, keeping his distance, as always. She couldn’t catch him, not with her knees knocking and her spine twitching. She had locked her body in a state just before orgasm, when her muscles acted on their own and clung to a man or a sheet or a chair so she could focus only on cumming until her legs gave out. She couldn’t even imagine how she looked, groaning with every swing and bucking her hips and thrusting out her chest even as she made some half-hearted attempt at combat. She would need some amazing explanation for her performance once she calmed down. If she calmed down. She couldn’t think about tomorrow, not when she was only moments away from losing control in front of dozens of people.

It ended by accident. The trainee finally made his move and swung at her, and she danced easily out of the way. But he slipped and his grip twisted, and her core spasmed and she bent over, and the flat of his axe smacked her right in her backside. That small moment of external stimulation, the most lackluster spank she’d ever received in the midst of sex, threw her off balance just enough. She felt the dam break, and her orgasm came barreling through her body, ready to consume her whether she wanted it or not.

Elicia panicked. She had to hide it. She had to pretend it was something else. In desperation she reached for the only thing she could: the trainee. She dropped her weapon and pounced on him, hoping to hide her face in his chest and disguise her convulsions as mundane grappling. He fell under her, utterly overwhelmed by her vigor. She landed on top of him, straddling his hips, grabbing his shoulders, in a perfect position for her masquerade.

Then the orgasm reached her brain, and she lost all control. She humped wildly at him, grinding the ring even harder against her clit through two layers of armor. Her back arched and she threw her head back, tossing her hair away from her face. Her arms locked, perfectly straight, and her shoulders rolled back. She tried to shout a victory cry, but the sound she emitted was closer to an animalistic grunt, impeded by the tongue lolling out of her mouth. Her world shifted, as though she rolled and crossed her eyes at the same time, though it might have just been her vision glazing over with bright white fireworks. She held tight and tried to throw him, to wrestle him into submission, and she honestly couldn’t tell if it just looked like she was rolling her whole body on top of his like a whore trying to earn an extra tip. She barely knew a hint of her own intentions amidst pleasure so great it nearly wiped her mind clean, and only after she had shouted herself hoarse did the ring finally stop.

She looked down at the trainee, and she could practically feel the heat from his beet-red face. Or was that her face? "S-so!" she started, hoping she had some way to finish the sentence. "That’s, uh…how you, um, take down an opponent with a heavy weapon! And the battle, uh, battle cries are for intimidation factor! Gotta control the flow of the fight, both mentally and physically! Let that be a lesson!"

He glanced down at where their crotches met. "Did you—"

"I will not be taking any questions good day!" She scrambled to her feet, snatched her weapon from the dirt, and didn’t even bother to sheathe it as she stormed off. She only hesitated a moment to shout "Seven!" at the stunned crowd, and then she was gone.

* * *

Gerrell’s jaw clamped shut, suppressing his groan. Inside him the animated butt plug squirmed, making passionate love to his prostate, and subtly moving his hips in his chair wasn’t scratching the itch it caused. His cock shoved his trousers outward, almost farther than they could handle; tight pants no longer seemed like the brilliant idea he’d thought they were when he dressed that morning. White knuckles gripped the edge of the table, toes clenched in boots, and everything in between hollered for release, but he held fast. He could take care of them in a minute. Five minutes, tops. First, he had to finish a simple conversation.

"Then you’ve been to all kinds of places, haven’t you?" The woman ran her finger around the edge of her glass. "I’ve always wanted to see Kalimdor."

He swallowed, squeezing his anus as tight as he could and hoping pain would distract him. "There’s the—ah! The Horde, though. You’d need an escort."

"And you’re just the man for the job, aren’t you?"

"I have…mmmmmany talents." He saw her wince at his accidental attempt at a growl, which really came out as more of a sigh. "Including protection. My team and I would be happy to show you around."

"Are they all as worldly as you are?"

"More or less. Our warrior is so—tough! And—fierce!" The plug chose those exact moments to push deeper, forcing him to bend over slightly with each word. "She’ll be…er, you’d like her."

"That’s…" the woman’s finger stopped and she sat upright. "You feel really strongly about that protection, huh?"

"What?" he bounced in his seat, the quietest way he could thrust his hips. "Oh, yeah, yeah. You’d feel…safe! So safe…"

"Um, are you trying to sell me on your teammate?"

"If that’s what you waaaaant." The plug lapped around him, pulling itself even further into his bowels. "I’m fine! Fine with whatever."

"Okay, this is a little weird now."

"No! No, it’s not weird. Not weird. We’re just having a conversation."

"Are we?" she pulled her glass away from his outstretched hand. "Because it sounds like you’re trying to talk me into a threesome."

"Yes," he muttered, "I mean, no! No, no, forget her. Just me. Me and you. Doing…th-things! Together. Doing th-the thing!"

"Yeah, I don’t know what’s going on here, but—"

"Don’t go!" He stood so fast he bumped the table, knocking her half-full glass all over her. The plug stopped for a blessed moment as he pulled a cloth from his pocket and began mopping up the spilled drink. "I’m sorry, so, so sorry. Ugh, I probably made that sound so creepy."

"No kidding."

"That’s my fault. I just got distracted thinking about the travel, and the potential problems, and the Horde, and my combat muscle memory kicked in, and—"

"It’s fine," the woman sighed and shook her hands, drying them in the air. "Maybe that’s a conversation for another time."

Another time? Meaning a second time? Meaning she wanted to see him again! Despite all the plug’s distractions, had he actually, successfully charmed a woman? "We can meet up again, then. Say, tomorrow?"

She sighed as he took her wet hand and wiped it clean. He squeezed her palm for only an instant, and it seemed like her anger melted away. "I guess…"

"Good!" He grinned openly. "Good. Tomorrow I promise I’ll be more together. The last thing I want to do is make another big mess on you."

He saw her face and stopped short. She wasn’t looking up and him. She was looking at his hand, which had dutifully continued patting down every drop of spilled drink. In his panic, he hadn’t realized it had strayed all the way to the woman’s ample chest. She glanced farther down, and he followed her gaze to his iron cock, tenting brazenly through his trousers. While she froze, the plug moved again, teasing him with a single, powerful lick, and his knees buckled as he moaned "oh, yeah…"

She draw back her hand and brought it to his face, and he didn’t remember much after that.

* * *

Gnolls brayed all around her, smashing makeshift weapons into their enemies’ heads, firing lightning through their hands, and slashing flesh into ribbons, and all Vuuli could focus on was trying not to have an orgasm.

She tried not to ascribe feelings and intentions to inanimate objects. If her robe tore, it wasn’t because it wanted her to have a bad day or because it was tired. It was just a robe. But her new magical penis ring was actually animate. It bounced along her erect shaft in an unceasing rhythm, squeezing and caressing until her legs turned to jelly and her shoulders rolled back. In her mind, it was not too far-fetched to believe it was trying to get her to inseminate the inside of her robe. She couldn’t pretend she knew why, or what this had to do with the power it gave her, or why it chose the most pitched stage of battle to begin the final push. She assumed spite.

Another spell faltered on her fingertips, sending magic into the air without form. She had lost count of the number of heals she had failed, too distracted by her impending breach of decorum to muster the will she needed to bend nature to her desires. Her allies had started to notice, calling for assistance while she stood behind crates or hid against low walls or knelt by corpses. They had not seen her enormous erection pushing her robe out and up, a ridge almost long enough to reach her breasts if she bent the right way. Or, if they had…no, it wasn’t possible. They couldn’t. If anybody knew she had an erection in combat, if anybody thought she was aroused by such carnage and danger, she might as well die of shame right then and there.

But the ring’s power was greater than hers, and it jacked her off with impossible fury. She gasped and moaned, then poorly hid her exhalations as spell components. Her hips shook forward and back, a biological need to thrust into the ring’s willing hole, and she only barely disguised it by shaking her hips as she walked, like some libidinous trollop waving her limited assets for the pleasure of those around her. Surely the group of trainees would tell their friends and guild about the immodest draenei who healed them, how she groaned with lust and sashayed around the battlefield, but better to put on an erotic farce than let them know the truth.

Bit by bit, her body and mind gave in. First a lost spell here and there, then a distraction when she should have healed, then a disgusting stray thought about what the worgen man kept inside his mail leggings. She couldn’t take it any more. Screams and the scent of blood filled the room, but her body would not be denied. For an instant she regretted staying chaste for so long, and she wished she had instead developed a tolerance for desire. Maybe then she could have soldiered on for another few minutes, leading the party despite her impediment, but as she was she had no chance. Her testicles grew taut and her penis twitched, and she barely threw down every totem she could think of before she lost her mind.

It was, simply, bliss. She didn’t care about the cold stone on her back as she fell, nor the perplexed screams of her allies, nor the furry monsters rushing toward her prone body. Her body melted into a puddle of joy, a cloud of warmth, an impossible electricity running through her every muscle. She didn’t worry about anything around her, content to let her body take whatever course it needed in the moment, and the ring helped her every step of the way, a firm hand dragging her into the light. Semen rushed from her penis like a torrent, and along with it went all the stress she had built. For several moments, everything was perfect.

"Hey! Var—…Vu…Vuuli? Yeah, Vuuli! Hey!"

Vuuli opened her eyes and looked up at the faces gathered around her. She recognized them, somewhat. They were…her party, yes. Or, not her party, but the party she had been leading through the Stockade, all talking over each other and hunched nearby.

"Are you okay? You screamed and fell over!"

"I’m so sorry! I thought I had all of them! One of them must have slipped by and attacked you!"

"We got the rest of them. Those totems were incredible! But if you’re in danger, you have to say something."

"Did you get stabbed? It looks like you’re bleeding. There’s a huge wet spot on your stomach."

Vuuli sat up so fast she almost stabbed the worgen with her horn. "No! No, I am fine. There is no need to worry about me. I will be fine."

"Are you sure? It’s…well, it’s not red, I guess. It almost looks like—"

"That will be enough." She climbed to her feet and brushed herself off. "Come, we shall tell the guard of your success." She turned and stormed off, hiding her front from their view. Hopefully the dark halls would hide the truth about what she had actually done…but, she realized with growing dread, there would be no hiding in the bright midday light on the streets of Stormwind.

* * *

Gerrell sighed. "So, how was your day?"

"Nothing happened why do you ask." Elicia folded her arms and glared out the window as though a nearby chimney had just said something awful about her mother. "I sparred. That is all."

"Are you—"

"Get off my case!"

"Okay, super. Vuuli?"

"It was…enlightening." She too failed to look him in the eye, and she sat on the bed with her hands tightly clasped.

"Weren’t you wearing something different this morning?"

"I assure you I have no knowledge of any wardrobe changes." She furrowed her brow. "Would you like to discuss the source of your injury?"

He poked gingerly at his black eye. "Not in particular."

They stood in silence for a long minute. "So," Elicia snarled, "about these items."

"What about them?"

"Don’t they make things a little too easy?"

"Yes!" Vuuli perked up. "Not that I see our efforts for the Alliance as a game or personal challenge, but I do feel they are far stronger than is logical. Perhaps they draw from some ancient, evil source? Yes, that must be it."

"Yeah…yeah, maybe." Gerrell pretended to think. "And who knows what their long-term effects are? Maybe they’re shortening our lives, or corrupting our minds. They might be dangerous."

"All excellent reasons!" Elicia punched her hand. "So we’re decided! We’re all getting rid of these items, because we don’t need them anyway, and we’re going to chuck them in a river or something and never talk about them again."

"A wonderful notion."

"Great plan."

"Perfect." Elicia nodded, and a smile returned to her face. "So, has anybody figured out how to take them off? Because mine is, um, stuck."

They looked at each other again, and the dread settled around them


End file.
